The Lundberg Company

by Orson Scott Card, in Meridain Magazine Nov. 17, 2006

Everybody wants the best for their children.

The hard part is to figure out what the “best” is.

Do we want our children to be the best? What does that mean, anyway? Most people would say, “I want my children to be the best they can be.” But the best at what?

At whatever they want to be, of course!

OK, so that means what? The best athlete? The best scholar? The best salesman? The best graffiti artist? The best car thief?

“Well, son, what disappoints me is not that you stole a car, but that you weren’t very good at it. You got caught. Didn’t I raise you to be the best at whatever you do?”

We want them to be the best they can be at things worth doing. So let’s suppose we have a list of “things worth doing”: How in the world can we know what is the “best” that a particular child can be at those tasks? Until they show us what they can do, by doing their best, how can we know what their best is? And what if they try really hard and don’t become good at it? Does that mean they failed? Or that we failed? Or that they simply don’t have the native ability to be good at the thing they wanted to do?

The Best Is the Enemy of the Good

Why in the world should we ever, ever ask any child to be the best at anything? Or try to guess when they have done their best? Why is that even our job, as parents?

That’s their job — to decide what they want to do, and then decide when they’ve done all they can (or want) in order to excel at that task.

For instance, why should someone even aspire to be the best doctor? Why not aspire to be a good doctor? If they aim to be the best, they can never succeed, because even if, miraculously, they are the best in their profession for a brief moment, they will age, and some young whippersnapper will come along and do better.

Best golfer, best runner — we know what happens to athletic record books. And suppose your kid grows up to set the record for the fastest mile in history, and no one ever surpasses it? As he gets older, he can’t reach his own record any more. He was the best, maybe the best ever, but he’s not the best now. What’s he supposed to do? Keep telling people for the rest of his life how his younger self was once the best? How long before he has no friends, because he can’t let go of his bestness?

It’s almost worse if your kids slave to be the “best they can be.” Because nobody knows what that is. So let’s say your kid is a doctor, and he makes a mistake, and somebody dies. Obviously, he should have done better. He should have not made that mistake. All the people he has saved are erased by that one mistake. He’s a good doctor, but that’s never enough, because he has to be the best he can be, which always means “flawless” — a standard no one can meet.

Life isn’t a competition. You can have a wonderful, happy life without ever being the best at anything. Without ever thinking about being the “best you can be.” All you need to do is try to be good.

Good is good enough.

Happiness Is …

Let’s walk away from the whole idea of bestness. We want our children to be happy.

Now we’re talking. Though, now that you think about it, that can be just a problematical as “best.” The kid who’s shooting up heroin is happy during the drug-induced high. Drunks are happy when the alcohol puts them in a daze of contentment. The tobacco addict is happy during that surge of relief as the nicotine goes back into the bloodstream. Surely that’s not what we had in mind.

When we say we want our kids to be “happy,” we don’t mean “feeling pleasure;” we mean that we want them to be able to look back on their lives and be content with the choices they’ve made. We want them to feel like they’ve accomplished something. Made the world a better place because they’re in it.

And how can we be sure to help our kids accomplish that? Very few people make such a splash in their chosen profession that anybody notices or remembers what they, as individuals, have done. If your measure of “accomplishment” consists of being noticed by others, you’re doomed to disappointment. Even the biggest stars or athletic heroes have to admit, in their solemn moments, that what they accomplished wasn’t that big a deal.

In fact, most of the things that bring the most fame are ultimately pretty trivial. While the accomplishments that really count are known only to a few.

What is the measure of happiness? I suppose everyone has their own idea, but species-wide, the prevailing notion might run something like this:

When your kids reach the age of 50:

1. They’re married to somebody they like and trust.
2. They’re supporting themselves.
3. Their own kids are growing up decently.
4. Everybody in the family is speaking to each other.
5. They’re all good people — contributing to society and living by the rules.

That’s an achievable standard, isn’t it? Click here to read the entire article, (and the best is yet to come.)